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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25791880">Awakening</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleObsessions/pseuds/LittleObsessions'>LittleObsessions</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Addams Family - All Media Types, The Addams Family (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Falling In Love, Horror, Kinky, Murder, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Revelations, Rough Sex, Sex, Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:47:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,123</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25791880</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleObsessions/pseuds/LittleObsessions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"She knows, of course, that it is only a matter of time, but she wants him to be absolutely sure that even his worst demons will be worshipped by her.<br/>After all, if he can forgive her for what she’s just done to his dearest and most beloved cousin, her wish is all but granted."</p><p>How does one discover kinks in a burgeoning relationship?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Awakening</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightLoveStories/gifts">MidnightLoveStories</a>.</li>


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22121014">What Bliss</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleObsessions/pseuds/LittleObsessions">LittleObsessions</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a companion story, a variation on a theme if you will, of my story 'What Bliss'. That being said, you don't have to read that to enjoy this. </p><p>Thank you to the amazing MidnightLoveStories for beta-ing this. It is also her fault it exists in the first place, so you can place the blame entirely at her door.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p>The cold of the night ripples across her skin, but its blows are glancing. There is too much else to draw her attention. </p><p>Sensory overload. An aesthetic feast. </p><p>The rattling shallowness of his breath, the way his chest heaves and it makes his collar jump up and down, the way his eyes won’t leave her face.</p><p>All of it is very intoxicating.</p><p>She looks down at the man across whose lap she is straddled, and then follows the row of glistening pearlescent buttons down his shirt.</p><p>It’s a pretty contrast; the black-red of the blood, the pure white of his dress shirt. It’s enticing.</p><p>Her tongue darts out on to her lips, but then she re-focuses her attention, and her eyes find his.</p><p>The terror she sees there is a feast to behold , contained in irises that are slowly widening into a deep blankness. A blankness she wants to devour.</p><p>She leans in, her mouth close to his damp cheek. He flinches as her sternum presses against the hilt of her pretty knife - gilt, mother of pearl -  but he has nowhere to go.</p><p>“You underestimated me.”</p><p>He gasps, as if her words are needles, and it elicits a smile from her.</p><p>“Men often do.”</p><p>The terror in Baz’s eyes makes her want to weep with joy. And so, she simply watches as they move rapidly from side to side, as if he’s only suddenly realising that she is very serious when she tells him that he is about to die.</p><p>She has punctured the aorta, of course he’s about to die.</p><p>Morticia revels in it.</p><p>But her delight, and the muted stream of music, is interrupted by footsteps mere seconds later. Patent wingtips, solid heel with steel-quartered tip.</p><p>She would know the footsteps anywhere. </p><p>They give her pause for a moment. The lack of context might, at first, be alarming to her intended. Here she is, straddled across his cousin’s lap, while his cousin slowly bleeds out.</p><p>And her favourite knife is wedged in his chest.</p><p>A lesser man would consider it an affront to his masculinity but, then again, Gomez Addams is not a lesser man.</p><p>She has a choice to make; their engagement is relatively new, their intimacy not fully formed, their peccadilloes just coming to the surface, their mortal sins bubbling underneath.</p><p>And maybe she should turn around and fall to her knees and beg him for his protection, his absolution, in the face of her crime.</p><p>She almost laughs aloud at the very thought of that. Her innate belief in his adoration fills every inch of her with confidence, and with something else.</p><p>Desire.</p><p>The wild, feral surge she feels every time she does this – though it is not often – is suddenly no longer just about the act of murder itself.</p><p>It’s about the growing monster in her belly, the fact that it feels like her nerve-endings are raw and wanting.</p><p>If she knows her future husband at all, she knows that he feels similarly, if not exactly the same. His eyes have not left her back, but his breathing – hardly difficult to discern as it gathers pace – has changed.</p><p>He has a brilliant poker face, when required, but his breathing is his delicious tell.</p><p>She can picture his face, though she hasn’t turned yet and acknowledged his presence.</p><p>She leans in and drags her tongue up Baz’s cheek.</p><p>It’s really not for Balthazar at all (though it is arguably the closest he’ll ever get to her tongue ) but he quivers, nonetheless.</p><p>“You taste like fear,” she tells him, and he groans again.  </p><p>She would be lying if she didn’t admit, even to herself, that his coveting of her is gratifying, even in light of the fact she has just cut short his life.</p><p>And the hitch, a pause of mere seconds, in Gomez’s laboured breath behind her, and the small step forward, is more than enough to qualify her belief.</p><p>She looks Balthazar in the eye and sees all of his horror, all of his fear, all of the things she wants to consume and be consumed by, pooling like endless wells. </p><p>Then she winks, and pressed upon his shoulders to stand up, and turns to Gomez.</p><p>His face is unreadable for a moment, and she is silent as she watches him examine the tableau before him.</p><p>“Hello mon amour,” she says softly, beckoning him.He can’t take his eyes from the blood dripping from the tips of her scarlet nails, and it makes Morticia press her thighs together.</p><p>“We were supposed to dance,” he says, his eyes fluttering over to his cousin’s face, but not remaining there.</p><p>They come back to her, and they are black and dark, and she wants to get lost in them instantly.</p><p> “As enticing a sight as this is, would you care to explain?”</p><p>There is a vague element of chastisement in it, of curiosity that she can’t quite place.  It surprises her that she is not offended by it; in fact, quite the opposite.</p><p>Gomez leans forward, towards his cousin, and takes his handkerchief from his pocket and swipes a trail of inelegant, foaming blood away from Baz’s chin, and his cousin gives a grateful little gurgle. He nods, fold it up and puts it back.</p><p>Such a gentleman. But that isn’t what she wants at this moment.</p><p>She wants to beg him, plead with him for the animal which sometimes emerges, the one she wants to see more, and more, and more of.</p><p>So she steps towards him, knowing her best asset is in the thrumming pulse of the body he can barely prevent himself from coveting at every waking moment. She slides forward into the space between her future husband and his soon-to-be-deceased cousin and her back and rear area almost flush with Gomez’s front.</p><p>“It is our engagement party after all,” she says, cupping Baz’s face with the very hand on which her engagement ring rests.</p><p>She twists her neck to look up into her future husband’s face and knows instantly that his control is about at breaking point. It’s a biblical revelation, as natural as knowing how to breathe.</p><p>She feels almost humbled by it.</p><p>And painfully, deliriously aroused.</p><p> “Your cousin should have known to be far more respectful of your intended’s boundaries, my love,” she presses herself against Baz, and he lets out a groan Gomez will know well enough to recognise. “So I thought he might need a lesson in manners.”</p><p>Gomez’s moan is barely audible, but it gives rise to a heady pleasure in her that she isn’t sure she’s felt before.</p><p>So many layers; murder, desire, need, hunger. And they are  making for an astonishing concoction in her gut, and for a moment she feels delirious with the prospect of what might happen if she times her bid just so.</p><p>“He made an assumption about my character,” she strokes his cousin’s quivering cheek, and one of Baz’s tears run down the length of her pale finger.</p><p>“Which was a dreadful miscalculation. You see, Baltazar, my commitment to your cousin runs deeper than even I can fathom.”</p><p>It is then that Gomez snaps, and it is so intense she would swear she hears it.</p><p>His hand reaches out to grab her upper arm, and he yanks her up and spins her, so she is nose to nose with him.</p><p>“Querida!”</p><p>His mouth crashes against hers, without anything resembling a preamble. She feels the push of his tongue, hard and demanding, against her lips.</p><p>“Gomez…” she draws back, paints shock and contrition all over her face. “Aren’t you angry?”</p><p>She already knows the answer, of course, but it won’t hurt to hear his loyalty given voice. And she wonders just what it will do to have it spoken aloud, to have it made real.</p><p>There is a tight coil in her belly, though it could be wound tighter if he makes this admission.</p><p>“Anger is not what I feel right now,” he chokes out, and she is delighted to see now – feel, hard and hot against her thigh – what it has done to him.</p><p>And it occurs to her that every challenge she has set him, he rises to without any significant difficulty.</p><p>They are perfectly matched. If that hadn’t been clear to her before, then the blazing desire in his eyes now confirms it.</p><p>The world shrinks until only they are left, their eyes locked - and their engagement party inside whirls away into a blur of beautiful music, a river of champagne and dancing. Balthazar – his breaths rattling now, staggering and hissing and leaping out of him in belaboured gusts – fades away, his demise a catalyst for a revelation she could only have hoped for, and is delighted by.</p><p>“Tell me what you do feel,” she says softly, needing to hear it, not content with implications, or grey areas.</p><p>“If I can’t be inside you right now,” he reaches out and grabs a fistful of her skirt, uses it to pull her even nearer and away from Baz, to the edge of the balcony. “I might well go the way of my cousin over there.”</p><p>He throws a dark look over her shoulder at the dying man, yet she has all but forgotten about Balthazar.</p><p>There is an urgency to his movements even she did not anticipate, and he turns her and pushes her into the darkest corner, and she is trapped there.</p><p>A flash of arousal tracks through her as he pushed himself against her, and there is no space between their bodies.</p><p>Even less between their minds.</p><p>It takes her eyes a moment to adjust, but she finds his – burning – almost immediately.</p><p>“It arouses you,” she says, making no effort to keep the wonder from her voice.</p><p>“Must you make me describe it?”</p><p>His eyes are riveted to her as she lowers herself to the cold stone, settling gracefully on her knees , and she enjoys his scrutiny as much as she enjoys the anticipation that is thrumming in every inch of his body.</p><p>“Tell me,” she commands, gently and powerfully. </p><p>The sound of his zipper rips through the silence, through the distant music and distant, gargling breaths, and she makes absolutely no prelude before taking him in her mouth, and glancing up to see him watching her with the very eyes of the devil.</p><p>His hand comes to the side of her head, guiding her mouth to take the length of him.</p><p>She’s not one to baulk at a challenge. But she does acknowledge the fact it <em>is</em> a challenge, and that makes her want to weep with delight. </p><p>“The very idea of it,” he says, watching her intently as she begins a slow ascent back to the tip of his cock, “makes me want to come.”</p><p>His eyes wander for a second, and she knows they will find the outline of Balthazar’s last moments. </p><p>She doesn’t like the idea of his losing focus, and so she swirls her tongue over the tip and his momentary shock makes him tug on her hair sharply. </p><p>“But to actually witness it,” he makes a noise of sincere gratitude, beatific and monstrous in equal measure, “is something else entirely.”</p><p>She sinks her mouth downwards again, and he flings his head back and his fist closes around the wrought-iron railing as he brings his other hand up to his mouth, and bites down on his knuckles.</p><p>It is the most erotic thing she has ever witnessed. </p><p>She pursues his release until he is almost at the edge and withdraws only when he pleads with her to stop.</p><p>“I can’t…” he says, strangled, his voice laced with pain and desire, as he tries to pull himself away.</p><p>“Oh but you can,” she mutters, kissing the tip of his cock and she holds it in her hand. “Is he dead yet?”</p><p>“I couldn’t care less,” he groans, and then, reaching down, grips her elbows and urges her on to her feet.</p><p>“Show me,” she commands, longing to see his control shatter.</p><p>Longing for him to trust her with the most vital parts of him.</p><p>She knows, of course, that it is only a matter of time, but she wants him to be absolutely sure that even his worst demons will be worshipped by her .</p><p>After all, if he can forgive her for what she’s just done to his dearest and most beloved cousin, her wish is all but granted.</p><p>“I can’t trust myself not to hurt you,” he grits out. </p><p>His words take her by surprise, and she is reminded that she hasn’t yet shown him – in all its explicit detail – how much pain she yearns for. Sometimes she dreams about all the things he could do to her, for her, so vividly, that she wakes up clawing at her bed and wet between her legs.</p><p>“I fantasise about you whipping me until I bleed, “she says softly, and his eyes widen.“About you tying me up and denying me until I am sobbing for release.”</p><p>He swallows audibly, and the shock on his face is gratifying. But she knows him, and she knows that he has these dreams too.</p><p>“I dream about you fucking me until I can barely walk.”  </p><p>He literally hisses at the use of profanity, because she is renowned for her politeness, her absolute commitment to congenial rules of engagement.</p><p>She also doesn’t have a reputation for murdering men who touch her without consent. Which simply proves that her public reputation is as well-constructed a lie as she wants it to be.  </p><p>With Gomez, she has no choice to be her full, wildly desperate self. </p><p>She’s never yet shown him this side of her, though she is neither ashamed of it nor afraid of letting him see it. </p><p>Behind them, Baz’s breath rattles to a shuddering halt.</p><p>And it seems to galvanise her fiancé into motion. He pushes her up against the wall, her back coming into contact with the rough stone of what will soon be her home.</p><p>There will be abrasions there tomorrow, she thinks fleetingly, because her dress is low and the skin is exposed, and she will cherish each scrape and bruise.</p><p>“You can murder me, and I will only want more,” he vows, pushing her dress towards her hips with one hand while he tears at the neckline with the other.</p><p>She’s wearing a corset, which she regrets for a moment, and he settles with trailing his tongue along the line of the satin since – without a slow, protracted undressing - he can’t get to her breasts.</p><p>She grips his cock with her fingers, and pushes the wet silk of her panties aside. He pushes his hands under her rear and presses her against the wall and enters her simultaneously, and she cries out into all of the distant sounds of a perfectly civil evening, which has given birth to something so astonishingly deep that she can’t even begin to analyse it.</p><p>She wants to live in the feeling of it, live in the sensation of his first, deep, restless thrust into the very centre of her body.</p><p>“See what you have done?” He asks against the damp skin of her neck, as he pushes into her with a level of control she wasn’t sure he was able to maintain. </p><p>Then his fingers come up to grip her chin, and he buries his face in her neck and holds her firmly. It hurts. And it feels wonderful. </p><p>His grip means she is forced to look at the body, slumped now, in the chair behind him. </p><p>He is dead, but – it occurs her – Gomez already knows that. </p><p>“That,” he punctuates his words with one thrust, then another, “makes me want to possess you, to show you the goddess you are…the demon you are .”</p><p>He lets go of her chin and begins to move more frantically, and the friction of his body against hers is so delicious that she can barely think to form a response. </p><p>She is already perilously close to coming, and when he begins sucking the skin of her neck she feels her muscles clench, and she locks her legs even more tightly around him and brings his face to hers so she can stare into the eyes of the man she would die for, or kill for.</p><p>A certain bliss. </p><p>The moon is full, and it shines in the pool of blood that is creeping towards their corner of the balcony, of the world, of the universe.</p><p>And she thinks this may be the moment of blissful revelation she has craved forever.</p><p>“You already possess me,” she manages to vow, before the very core of the Earth seems to shatter within and outwith her, and she falls hard into blissful agony as she comes.</p><p>Her words splinter his control apart too, and he howls into her neck as he tenses and comes inside her.</p><p>They stay like that for a moment, before the silent exchange of acknowledgement that they have both a party to attend and a body to dispose of, presents itself. It is a wordless agreement that their partnership will extend, now, beyond the bounds of matrimony.</p><p>And Gomez is hardly a novice when it comes to disposing of corpses. </p><p>She is not as quick to action as he is, and he sets her gently against the wall as she tries to re-centre herself. He tidies himself into an impeccable state – save for the smear of her own scarlet lipstick along his jaw that she can’t bring herself to warn him of – before turning away from her and examining Baz’s body for a moment. Then he steps forward and pulls her knife out, swipes his own handkerchief over it until it’s clean, and turns back to her with it.</p><p>“Madamoiselle?”</p><p>She takes it from him and slides it into her garter, before standing straight and taking the hand he offers. </p><p>She stands back and he hauls his cousin – careful not to get blood on his lovely dress suit – over his shoulder and perches his flailing corpse on the railing.</p><p>“Allez, old man,” he says, and tips him over the edge.</p><p>The act is followed by a swift thud as Baz’s body lands on the tarmac below.</p><p>“We snuck off for a quick tryst, did we not?” He turns to her. </p><p>“It’s partly true,” she says softly, twining her fingers with his, before turning back to the party and glancing inside.</p><p>“You are magnificent,” he breathes, close to her ear. And after a moment:</p><p>“That was…stunning. It’s not your first, is it?”</p><p>She simply smiles. </p><p>"You have forever to find out, don’t you?”</p><p>
  <span class="s3"> <span class="bumpedFont15">He laughs and sweeps her up in his arms.  </span> </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="s3"> <span class="bumpedFont15">What bliss indeed.  </span> </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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